What the Storm Brought In
by Alex Kade
Summary: OW: Nettie's cabin, a terrible storm, a visitor, and a dance!


**A/N: **I have no idea where this idea came from, lol. I guess I realized I wasn't giving the ladies enough attention, and Nettie felt like talking to me. A fluffy number, no whump involved, even with Ezra being a key character. See? I can play nice with my toys!

* * *

><p>Nettie sat listening to the heavy rain and driving winds that battered against her cabin. She sighed as she placed another log on the fire, hoping that the storm wouldn't cause too much damage to the property. Casey, bless her heart, would likely run herself ragged trying to fix up the place while continuing to get herself ready for the Harvest Dance. Maybe if the place got too banged up, she could just ask members of the town to make repairs and allow her young niece the time she needed to just be a girl for once…<p>

A knocking on her door startled her out of her thoughts. She listened for a moment, uncertain whether the wind had simply blown some branch or other against the house, or if there was indeed some fool wandering around out in the violent weather.

The knock came again, more forceful this time. Shaking her head, she crossed the house to the entrance and pulled on the door handle, the force of the wind gushing in nearly knocking her back. A hand shot out to steady her, and once she had her footing and looked down at the brown sleeve dripping water onto her floor, it just as quickly released its hold and pulled back. She brought her eyes up and looked on in shock at the man hunched up in his coat on her porch.

"Land sakes, child, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Is it not Wednesday?" he asked in return, unable to keep the tremble out of his voice.

She frowned at him. "Well, yes, but we didn't actually expect you to come."

He opened his mouth to speak, then dropped his head for a second. When he looked back up at her, one side of his mouth crooked up into a knowing, sad little smile. "I see. I apologize for disrupting your evening, Mrs. Wells. Have a good night." He tipped his hat at her causing the water that had pooled on the rim to run off in an angry stream. He paid it no regard as he wrapped his coat around himself tighter and turned to leave.

Nettie reached out to grab him this time, heedless of the rain that was starting to blow in through her doorway. "Mercy, son, you're not disrupting a damn thing. Didn't think you'd come because of all this." She gestured as a flash of lightening lit up the night sky. "Come on inside before you catch your death."

She almost laughed at the relief that flooded his eyes and rolled out with his simple "thank you." Stepping back to allow him entrance, she frowned again as he began to shrug out of his jacket while he was still outside on the porch.

"Oh for pity's sake," she muttered and drug him inside before he could protest, slamming the door behind him.

"Mrs. Wells, your floor-" he started.

"Is already wet," she finished. "Hang your hat and coat over the mantle there, and take off your boots, dry 'em by the fire."

With a curt nod, he did as was told and continued to stand by the warmth of the flames, keeping his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he tried to control the shivers that wracked his sturdy frame. Nettie watched him for a moment before sighing again as she took in the gambler's drenched trousers and the dampness of the plum jacket.

"Casey!" she shouted to the back of the house, smirking slightly at the fact that she'd made the Southerner jump.

The younger Wells appeared within seconds, her eyes growing wide as she took in the sight of the normally unruffled Mr. Standish looking like a drowned terrier huddled by the fire.

"Go see if you can't find Mr. Fancy Pants, here, some dry clothes to wear. Should be something in your Uncle's trunk that might fit him," Nettie instructed.

Ezra tried to wave her off. "That's not necessary, Mrs-"

"Don't you start in on your macho nonsense with me, mister," she scolded. "A blind man could see that you're freezing, and being's as how you're only in that sorry state so you could come do Casey a favor, it's the least we can do. You go follow her, now, and don't come back until you're in something dry." She glared at him until he hesitantly backed down and followed her niece into the bedrooms. "Men," she huffed, but couldn't stop the small smile that crept onto her lips.

She'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't surprised by the conman's appearance. Hell, she would've been surprised to see Vin out on a night like this, so having the well-kept Ezra Standish blow in with the storm was a complete shock to her. Not that she didn't think he'd be good on his word, but to risk his health riding out in weather hazardous enough to kill a man just so he could teach a young girl to dance? Apparently the Southerner was more of a gentleman than she gave him credit for.

As she pondered over the enigma that was Ezra P. Standish, she moved into the kitchen to put soup to boil. Warming him up on the inside would do him some good, seeing as how he had been so miserable on the outside. If the storm kept up she'd have to offer him a place to sleep for the evening, too. He'd try to turn her down with some fancy language about not wanting to impose, or being worried about the townsfolk slandering her name, but she'd wave off the excuses and win the argument. Not even Mr. High-'N-Mighty Larabee could tell her no if she had a mind to put her foot down on an issue.

Casey crept back into the kitchen, interrupting Nettie's thoughts. "He's gettin' dressed now, Aunt Nettie."

"Good," Nettie said, nodding her approval. "Why don't you put on that old overcoat and make sure Mr. Standish's horse gets put up proper for the evening. Doesn't look like this storm's going to let up anytime soon."

"Yes, ma'am." Casey grinned and took off.

_That girl's always too happy to have company, _Nettie smirked.

She turned back to tend to her soup and heard the soft padding of bare feet on the living room floor. Without turning around she called out, "You can hang those wet clothes in here, Mr. Standish. I've got a short line running in the back over by the storage closet."

The man didn't say a word as he slipped into the kitchen and went about pinning his damp clothes to the provided line. Nettie bit back a chuckle, knowing he must be feeling extremely self-conscious not only about the change in his usual attire, but also in regards to the motherly attention he clearly was not used to receiving.

"When you're done with that, you can-" She turned to face him, her words dropping off as she gazed upon the man donning her late husband's clothes. "Stars in Heaven," she whispered, momentarily visualizing her departed love in the form of Standish who stood awkwardly before her. Used to seeing the Southerner always done up in his fancy vests and pristine white shirts, she'd be kidding herself if she said the man didn't look good in the ranch wear. The tan slacks fit snugly at his waist, but the legs bunched a bit around his naked feet. The dark brown shirt with its black shoulder adornment was tucked loosely into the waistband, the top several buttons left undone revealing just a small portion of his smooth chest. He had left the sleeves unbuttoned at the wrists, as well, allowing them to drape partially over his hands.

His face flushed slightly. "Young Miss Wells picked these out at random. Shall I put something else-"

"You look fine, Mr. Standish," Nettie quickly assured him, briefly wondering how many more times she could get away with cutting him off before he said something about it. "Why don't you go on back to the living area and move those chairs out of the way. Gotta make some room for your dance lessons."

Ezra glanced around. "Where is-"

"Outside putting up your ornery horse. Go on, now, she'll be in in a minute."

The way he pursed his lips together let her know that her method of interrupting his speech was, indeed, getting to Standish, but he was too polite to say anything on it. This just amused her all the more. Getting under the slick man's skin was often an enjoyable game to her, but she wouldn't push it too much tonight. He didn't have to be there, after all.

The dance lessons were brought up several days before when Ezra had accidentally overheard the young sheriff ask Casey if she would accompany him to the dance. She had apparently been about to backpedal out of the invitation (as much as she really did want to go with JD) when Ezra recognized the discomfort, and stepped in on her behalf.

"_The dance? Um, gosh, JD, I'd love to go, but, um, I don't…I mean, I can't…well..."_

_Ezra slipped up behind the girl as if he had just chanced upon their conversation. "Miss Wells? I was just sent to inform you that the dress you had your keen eyes on in Mrs. Potter's catalogue is now back in stock. If you would allow me to help you with the proper steps in placing your order, it should arrive in time for the dance."_

_Casey questioned him silently for a few seconds before it dawned on her what he was offering. With a broad, thankful smile, she nodded at him and turned back to JD. "Looks like I can go to the dance, after all!"_

_JD smiled back. "Well, heck, Casey, if all you needed was help findin' a dress, I coulda done that. Why didn't you just say so?"_

_She fidgeted and Ezra spoke up again. "Oh, I apologize, Miss Wells. I've ruined your surprise. What was I thinking?"_

"_It's okay, Ezra, he woulda found out sooner or later." She turned back to her dance date. "I just didn't want you to see the dress until I had it, is all."_

"_Oh. Okay," the kid shrugged. "Well, I gotta run. I've got patrol in a few minutes. See ya, Casey, Ezra."_

_He took off, leaving Casey and Ezra alone. He grinned down at her and said, "Lessons will commence Wednesday evening, if that suits your schedule."_

"_That suits me just fine," she answered, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. "Thanks, Ezra! I'll owe you big time for this! See you Wednesday!"_

_Before he could respond, she had also taken off with the same enthusiasm as JD. Ezra shook his head and chuckled at the young lovebirds, having no intentions of ever asking Casey to pay him back for the lessons. He was more than happy to just help his friends._

"Mrs. Wells?" Standish called from the other room. "What are we to use for music?"

She smiled wistfully. "I've got an old violin I had tuned up just for the occasion. It's been a while since I played, but I think I can get by enough for what you need."

Ezra stepped back into the kitchen. "I wouldn't have taken you for a musician of such a refined instrument."

"We've all got our secret vices, Mr. Standish. Don't go telling anyone, either. Folks might start to think I'm an actual woman."

He barked out a laugh just as Casey came barreling her way back into the house. "I think you're right, Aunt Nettie. That storm ain't letting up tonight. I put Chaucer next to Maple. He kinda likes her."

"Thank you, Miss Wells," Ezra saluted, "but you really needn't have gone through the trouble. I will be lea-"

"You'll be staying and you won't be arguing about it, neither," Nettie ordered, pointing her spoon at him threateningly when he opened his mouth to protest. He diligently clamped it shut, once again, but couldn't keep his eyes from rolling in frustration. She ignored it. "Casey, go put on something a girl can dance in. I'll be done with this soup in a few minutes so Mr. Standish, if you're done turning my living room into a ballroom, go find yourself a seat. Hopefully you left one near the fire; I can see you shaking still from clear over here." No one moved for a few beats. "Go!"

Casey and Ezra scurried from the kitchen like two chastised children. Satisfied with herself and her authoritarian ways, she finished with the simple meal and served up enough for the three of them. Casey was making her way back into the front room, wearing a simple white dress, at the same time that Nettie exited the kitchen, and Ezra would've stood at their entrance as a proper gentleman should had it not been for the _stay put_ glare that the elder Wells shot him. He had looked like he was finally starting to warm up in that old comfy chair; far be it for a couple of tomboy women (dress or no) to force him out of it just yet.

After the quick meal, Ezra had insisted he be allowed to clean up for the ladies, and Nettie let him win that one. It gave her enough time to go pull out and double-check the strings on her old violin, suddenly feeling a touch self-conscious. Aside from Casey, no one had heard her play the thing in ages. She could only assume that Standish had a taste in music as eloquent as his choice in clothing, and she fretted for a moment over what he might think of her rusty playing.

She snorted to herself. Hell, if he didn't like it, he could just go right on back home through that storm.

_You won't do that to the poor boy and you know it._

The thought beneath that was the knowledge that Standish wouldn't criticize her, anyway. He may have been brought up a cheat and a liar, but the young man did have impeccable manners. He wouldn't insult her in her own home, especially not after she had just taken him in and fed him for the evening.

When she came back out, Ezra was already walking Casey through some basic steps. A light smile touched his lips as he met Nettie's gaze, and he nodded to her almost imperceptibly as a cue to start playing whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. She took it for what it was – a sign that he would work with whatever she gave him. The pressure was off her shoulders and squarely on his.

And so she played. She missed notes here and there, struggled a little with pacing in other places, had to stop and start over once or twice when she got lost, but through it all, Ezra managed to keep up his encouraging smile to both women until well into the evening. By the time they were through, Casey had finally stopped stepping on his toes (thank goodness she had also gone barefoot for the lesson), and Nettie was able to find her rhythm again.

"You are a fast learner, my dear," Ezra said as he took a bow and brushed his lips across the top of Casey's hand.

"Only 'cause you're a great teacher," Casey blushed. "Are we gonna do this again?"

"Next Wednesday?" Standish asked, directing the question more to Nettie.

"I'll practice a little more before then so I don't hold you back," Nettie responded with a wink.

Ezra scoffed. "Nonsense, Mrs. Wells, you played beautifully."

This time it was her turn to blush as she waved off the compliment. "Oh, stop that, I did used to know how to play once upon a time. I know what it's supposed to sound like, and that wasn't it, but I admit I did enjoy the practice. Maybe I'll take it up again as a hobby."

"You should," he answered, his green eyes sparkling with admiration…and also exhaustion.

"My, look at the time," she huffed, breaking the moment. "You push those two armchairs together and they actually make a fine substitute for a bed. Casey, go bring a couple blankets out here then you get to bed, yourself. Your clothes should be dry come morning, Mr. Standish, but you just stay here as long as you'd like."

Casey smiled. "Aunt Nettie makes real good flat cakes. You should stay for those."

"Perhaps I will," Ezra smiled. "Thank you, ladies, for a most enjoyable evening. It was worth braving the storm for your company."

"Pleasure was ours." Nettie nodded to him as she turned to leave the room. She stopped and told him softly over her shoulder, "And you're welcome to come back any time, not just for dance instruction. Turns out you're a much better house guest than I would've pegged you for."

Ezra smiled devilishly. "Don't go telling anyone, either. Folks might start to think I'm an actual good man."

She gave him a serious look. "You are, Mr. Standish, and I think folks are already starting to figure out that secret."

He looked down at his hands, and she took that moment to slip away so as not to further embarrass him. Yep, she had pegged the fancy-pants gambler all wrong at first, but she knew now that he had just wormed his way into her heart as another of her adopted sons. She laughed out loud wondering if the solitary man would be able to handle it.

It didn't matter. He didn't have a choice.

_**The End!**_


End file.
